


No Man's Land

by LeTempest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Past Abuse, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 02:30:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/844286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeTempest/pseuds/LeTempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Isaac talk about their fathers and the scars the men left in their wake</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Man's Land

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill from my tumblr(sitdowngreenburg.tumblr.com)
> 
> Prompt:Scott and Isaac, sitting on the bluff talking about fatjers, how they both were abusive in their own way one physical and emotional the other psychological and emotional. Holding hands and just knowing its going to be ok because the other one is there. For Omega 696.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own teen wolf or any of the characters and this is just for fun. Also, unabated so all mistakes are my own.

Tonight had not turned out at all like Isaac had hoped. And it had started out so well.

            He hadn’t actually expected that Derek would let him take the Camaro. That had been Cora’s idea, but Boyd had been happy to back her up. Stile’s jeep was in the shop, Allison’s car was pretty full, and besides that they were all the way across town. Scott hade his motorcycle, but after Isaac’s last trip on the back of a bike, he wasn’t to anxious to hope back on one. So he felt like he should at least try to get the car.

            Isaac had wanted to brooch the subject delicately, Cora rolled her eyes.

            “Derek can we borrow the car to go to the movies?”

 His jaw had nearly hit the floor when Derek held out the keys.

“I find any dents, scratches, or bodily fluids in my car, I will morally obligated to kill you both,” he said gruffly, but he dropped the keys into Isaac’s hand.

The Beta managed a crooked smile and an enthused nod.

“Thanks.”

“Just be careful,” Derek warned as Isaac turned to leave, “and not just with the car.”

Cora smiled triumphantly and Boyd’s face broke into a wide smile, one Isaac had missed. A lot.

“Told you,” she said, grabbing her jacket.

            The drive was nice and the movie was fun, but then again, Isaac hadn’t really been paying that much attention to the film itself. He sat, instead, thinking about how _this_ had become his life. Not the were wolf thing, but the fact that he had friends, that he had people to protect, people who would protect him. He closed his eyes, focusing for a moment on the weight of Scott’s hand in his. He let his gaze slip to Allison and their eyes met and she smiled, her arm around Lydia’s shoulders.  Boyd, Stiles, and Cora sat on their other side, trying to toss popcorn into each other’s mouths. He wasn’t sure how everything could have lined up so nicely, for once.

            Of course, the universe couldn’t let that kind of happiness last.

            They filed out of the theater; all laughs and high spirits, debating whether they would go bowling or head back to Stiles house for more movies.

            It snuck up on Isaac, the sharp, acrid smell of rage and fear and suddenly, Scott was turning away from him, letting him go, slipping back towards the shadows. Isaac followed, shaken by the sound of the other’s pounding heart.

            “What is it? Scott?” Isaac, breathed, pressing close to the other boy. Scott was staring venomously across the street, and Isaac followed his gaze.

            “My dad,” Scott growled in response and Isaac felt his heart plummet into the pit of his stomach.

            They didn’t talk about Scott’s dad any more than they talked about Isaac’s. All Isaac knew about the man he had picked up form anger snatches of phone dialogue or hushed discussions between Melissa and her son. He knew the guy was that he was a grade a bastard but beyond that there was nothing.

            Seeing him was almost a let down. Some slightly paunchy, slightly balding middle aged guy in glasses and a polo, with a long face and a crooked jaw. Some small part of Isaac mourned for Melissa; she was far too attractive to have settled for a man like that.

            But the tension in Scott’s muscles, the soft growl in his throat brought Isaac back to the matter at hand. He tucked himself into the shadows with the other boy, hands on Scott’s hips as he pressed their forms together, trying to offer some comfort, some stability, to pull Scott back out from where ever he was.

            “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered against Scott’s skin, “We’ll go up to the bluffs, just the two of us. Is that okay?”

            Scott nodded, his heart coming down just a bit, but his eyes never breaking their hard stare on the man.

            Cora seemed to sense the tension, and volunteered easily that she and Boyd were staying at Stiles tonight after bowling. Scott said he didn’t feel well, and it was clear on Allison and Stiles faces that they knew why. They didn’t press, just said their goodbyes and let the young wolves go.

            They road through town and out, the windows down and the radio up. Scott didn’t take, just looked out the window in a way that worried Isaac. He’d seen that face more times than he could count, that look Scott always had when he was thinking about things he believed to be his fault. Isaac wanted to reach across the space between them, rest a hand on Scott’s forearm, or thigh, let him know he wasn’t alone. But Isaac knew from experience that when the past rushed up on you, sometimes the last thing you wanted was to be touched.

            He killed the car engine at the overlook and Scott was out of the car before Isaac could breath, hands in his hair, pacing slowly. Isaac left him be, snagging a seat on the hood of the Camaro to wait. Scott would talk when he was ready.

            “Sorry,” he said after a moment, letting out a deep sigh, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “I don’t know why that made me such a mess.”

            Isaac shrugged.

            “Don’t worry about it. You feel the way you feel, you know. I’m the last person in the world who’s going to judge you for that.”

            “I just- AHHHH,” Scott snarled, sharp with frustration, “ He shouldn’t make me feel like this. Just seeing him shouldn’t make me feel like-like I just got punched in the stomach! They’ve been divorced for years and after I stopped living with him, he hasn’t wanted a damn thing to do with me.”

            “Maybe that’s why you feel that way,” Isaac said, picking at the beds of his nails. He knew that feeling. He got it even now and his dad was dead.

            “What do you mean?”

            Isaac shrugged.

            “I don’t know. Like, he put you through something, obviously. Something that hurt you really bad. And then when you got away from it, he just shut you down. Like, there was no closure there I guess. I’m guessing he never acknowledged that he hurt you and maybe knowing that makes the hurt worse because you’re the one that suffer, you don’t get to heal. Not all the way.”

            Scott was quiet for a moment and Isaac looked up when he realized the other boy had stopped moving. Scott was watching him with this careful expression, as if he’d just crossed into no man’s land and had no idea which way to go. It sent a creeping sense of dread down Isaac’s spine. They both knew he was damaged. They just didn’t talk about it. But a time was coming when they were going to have to, if they wanted to keep this going, whatever this was.

            So Isaac shrugged, looking back down at his nails.

            “No two abuse victims have the same experience. But it leaves the kind of scars you recognize in other people, because you’ve got them too,” he said plainly.

            Scott sighed again and Isaac closed his eyes, just listening to the other boy’s heart beat for a moment. Then Scott was there, sliding up onto the hood beside him, leaning into him, hard muscle and familiar skin. His finger tangled with Isaac’s and he leaned back against the windshield, pulling the taller boy with him.

            “He never hit me,” Scott said, “never even acted like he would. I can’t even remember him ever raising his voice. But I was still scared of him. Scared of his judgment, scared I would fail him, scared he would leave. Because that’s what he did, he convinced us, me and my mom, that we needed him. That we were nothing without him. That we owned it to him to make him proud of us.”

            Isaac’s thumb stroked across the curve of Scott’s hand, trying to comfort but at the same time trying to keep himself here, keep himself engaged, not slipping back into his own thoughts like he usually did when these topics came up.

            “When I was really little, it was almost all focused on my mom. She wasn’t smart enough, she wasn’t pretty enough, she didn’t keep a nice enough house. If she wanted something or needed something, he would give it to her, but get himself something better, just to reminder that he would _always_ bebetter. Even little things, stupid things, but it burrowed into her like worms. I don’t think I really understood it then, what he was doing to her when he talked to her like that. All I knew was that when he walked away she cried, and I hated to see my mom cry. Then when I was probably, I don’t know, grade school, he started in on me. That’s when mom served him the divorce papers. But being the selfish bastard he is, he wanted custody , because he knew my mom didn’t want him to have it. That’s when it got bad. It was always something. He wanted me in everything and he wanted me to be the best at everything. And if I wasn’t, it was my fault. I was a failure. I was making him look bad. I was a waste of time, of energy, of money. And then he would ignore me, for days. Just turn his back on me until I was begging for his attention, for his affection. Best day of my life was when his girlfriend decided she didn’t like me. If they were gonna get married she wanted a fresh start and that didn’t include me. They went back to court so my mom could have full custody of me. I do my best not to see him now.”

            The quiet stretched between them for a while, broken only by the sounds of traffic in the distance. Isaac was nervous, knowing he should fill the empty space with his own story. But one glance at Scott eased him. There was no expectation in the other wolf’s gaze, just the promise of a listening ear if he wanted to talk. Isaac swallowed hard.

            “He wasn’t always like that…violent, I mean. When I was little, he was great. He was happy. We were happy. At least I thought we were. Then mom left, just disappeared one day bags packed, no note. They tried to find her after Dad…but nothing came up. Anyway, after he was different. Mean. He was hard on us, condescending. But mostly on Camden. Cam did his best though, did everything to the letter, and to protect me. Cam had this face, this act, he’d put on for dad. It made him a bit of a bully though, to other kids. Kids like Matt.  Always using them to put on a show for our dad. Like he was just like him. But he wasn’t. Not really. We’d talk about it, what we were going to do when Cam got old enough. He was a good swimmer but not good enough to get a scholarship and his grades were nothing special. So he thought he’d do four years in the army, get out, go to school. He’d help me get to college, help me move out of dad’s house and in with him. Dad didn’t know that part. Still, when Cam enlisted, Dad hated it. He started hitting me after Cam shipped out. Then there was Afghanistan and Cam never came back. That’s when the freezer started. He wanted Camden back. Wanted me to be him, but I couldn’t. And he punished me for it.”

            Scott’s hand closed a little tighter on Isaac’s as he finished and he pulled in a deep breath of cool air. That had hurt. Some part of him was sure it always would. But right now, the hurt didn’t matter as much as relief the words had given him or the warmth of Scott’s palm in his own.


End file.
